


A Trail of Grave Soil

by LiterallyThePresident



Category: DCU (Comics), Green Lantern (Comics)
Genre: Character Death, Horror, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27021532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiterallyThePresident/pseuds/LiterallyThePresident
Summary: Sinestro walks through a foggy wood, and he will never escape
Relationships: Barry Allen & Hal Jordan, Hal Jordan/Thaal Sinestro
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	A Trail of Grave Soil

“Sinestro...” the crooning whisper made Sinestro pause, coming to a halt on the dirt path. The woods were dark, the trees dense and tightly packed together, the fog obscuring his vision, only allowing him to see a few feet in front of him. It set his hackles to rise, all his senses on high alert.

“Who’s there?” he called, fist raised in preparation for a fight. A twig snapped behind him, and he summoned a large yellow blade as he spun to face the sound, only to pause as its source was revealed. Hal Jordan was half-hidden behind a gnarled old tree, peeking out from behind it with an expression far too blank for those piercing eyes, and Sinestro fought down the familiar flare of longing at the sight of him, schooling his face into one of cool apathy. 

“Jordan.” he greeted calmly, allowing the construct to dissolve, “Am I to assume our meeting is no coincidence?” Jordan didn’t answer, and Sinestro raised an inquisitive eyebrow, “Well? What are you doing here, skulking in the mist and shadows?”

_ “Sinestro.” _ Jordan’s voice was softer than Sinestro had ever heard it, soft like the moaning wind making the boughs of the trees groan, his damnably brown eyes peering out from a pale face with something like apprehension. Or perhaps pity, “I… all I ever wanted was to bring you back.”

“What are you talking about?” Sinestro asked with a cautiously curious tilt of his head, “Jordan, this is no time to start being cryptic.” 

“I tried to help you.” the human whispered, his speech slower than normal, “I never gave up on you.... Let me help you one more time.”

“Jordan-“

“I love you.” Pain lanced through him at the simple yet powerful words, and he was seized with a wild urge to pull the human into his arms before he got ahold of himself, shaking his head slightly.

“Whatever it is you want, reminding me of our fond times together will not achieve it.” he said haughtily, despite the shameful flutter of his heart, and Jordan had the gall to look sad. 

“You always assume the worst of me.” he whispered, and Sinestro began to grow irritated at the man’s refusal to speak clearly, to stop whispering and murmuring and just  _ talk, _ “Even when all I wanted was to have you back at my side. Please let me help you this one last time.”

“Help me with what?” he scoffed, “Jordan, if you are going to be even more infuriating than usual, I will leave.”

“Stop.” Jordan whispered, and his eyes were reflective now, pinpricks of light like a cat in the night, “Turn from this path now, Sinestro. It will bring only destruction, to you and all you love.”

“What are you going on about?” he glared, “Speak plainly, Jordan.”

“Turn back.” his voice was so damnably soft, “Turn back, please, Sinestro.”

“You know I cannot.” he murmured, something almost like regret rising within him before he ruthlessly shoved it down, “We both know it is far too late for that.”

“It isn’t.” Jordan murmured, “You can still fix things. You can still save yourself and Korugar.” Sinestro sighed, forcing himself to turn away and continue down the foggy path. Jordan watched him go silently, and Sinestro didn’t look back to see his expression. 

“Sinestro.” But Jordan was behind the next tree he passed, “Stop.” Sinestro continued on, not acknowledging him. But the insufferable human was somehow behind every tree he passed, seeming to move just a touch closer with each pass. Sinestro sped up his pace a touch, hoping to outrun him. 

“Turn back.” If Sinestro looked at him for too long, it almost seemed like Jordan was a part of the mist. Like he faded and vanished upon contact with it, features obscured, disappearing and reappearing as it swirled around him. 

“No.”

“Turn. Back.”

“Have you suffered a blow to the head?” Sinestro asked crossly, “I said no. Ask something else or be silent, this constant-“

_ “Thaal.” _ That got his attention, and he whipped his head around to glare at him. 

“If you are going to continue to act like a petulant-“ but Jordan was gone, leaving not even footprints in the dark soil. Sinestro turned in circles, searching the shrouded woods for the infuriating human, but Jordan had vanished. 

“Jordan, enough games! I don’t have time for this-“ chilled hands grabbed his shoulders, whirling Sinestro around, and he recoiled in horror at the sight that greeted him. Jordan’s handsome face was coated in crimson blood, the red flowing in rivulets from the many, many gashes and wounds that covered his throat and chest, exposing slick innards and a single, glistening white rib, his throat torn open and chest slashed to ribbons. Jordan’s eyes were all pupil, the whites completely filled in with red from visibly burst vessels, the side of his head torn open, and Sinestro couldn’t withhold the scream that tore from his throat as Jordan’s mouth opened to reveal shattered teeth and a mouthful of blood. 

**_“I loved you!”_ **

Sinestro bolted upright with a shout, a construct already formed to shove Jordan away, only to be met with no resistance at all. Frantic, he tumbled out of bed and whirled around, searching wildly, but soon logic reasserted itself, and his pounding heart began to calm as sense returned to his fogged mind. He was in his room. He was alone. Hal Jordan, or whatever it was his dream had conjured up, was nowhere in sight, nowhere in the quadrant even. And even if he was, a human with wounds like that wouldn’t have been able to walk, let alone prance about the woods being cryptic and vague.

Still, he found himself lifting his ring, opening a communication to Jordan’s ring without thought. Once he heard Jordan’s voice, strong and real and loud, this irrational disquiet would fade and he could get back to going about his business. The dream was just stress getting to him, Jordan’s insistent pleas just the unusual heroic posturing, his declaration of love just... wishful thinking. As soon as he heard his voice...

And yet, Jordan’s ring was unresponsive. Frowning, he tried again. And again. Each time he attempted to contact him, he was met with static. Silence. Heart pounding and scowl deepening, he contacted the next person he could think of. Jordan’s best friend, Barry Allen, The Flash, whatever his name was. To his great relief (not that he’d ever admit it), he actually got an answer this time, the human flickering into view and looking very angry to see him.

“What do you want?” the man asked coldly, the blue of his eyes flinty even despite the yellow glow of the ring. Sinestro shared the sentiment, having no interest in the man past their mutual care for Hal Jordan. 

“Where is Jordan?” he cut right to the chase, “I must speak with him, now.”

“And why the hell would you want to talk to him? Aren’t you his enemy?” Allen snapped, his eyes red rimmed and bloodshot, and now that Sinestro really looked, he could see that the man was an intoxicated wreck, hair messy and face flushed, his posture one of a defeated, miserable man, “You fucking abandoned him, betrayed him! The fuck would I tell some evil red bitch where my best friend, my best friend in the goddamn world is?”

“My reasons are my own, just tell me where he is and why he isn’t answering his ring.” he glared, “And then I will let you get back to your drinking.” he added with a contemptuous sneer.

“Fuck you.” Allen growled, and the call was cut off with finality. Sinestro bared his teeth, cursing the contemptible human in his mind as he searched his mind for the next person he could call, if Allen was going to be difficult. He thought of Carol Ferris (he hated her), Oliver Queen (hated him too), Superman (he was weird), but he couldn’t imagine calling them for help. That only left the only other person he could think of, Hal’s most bearable friend. Cursing softly, he opened up a line to the Batman, hoping that at least a sensible human could shed some light on the situation.

“Thaal Sinestro?” the man thankfully answered quickly, “What-“

“Where is Jordan?” he interrupted impatiently, “It is imperative that I speak with him.”

“Jordan?” the Batman’s gravelly voice sounded skeptical, “Why do you want to speak to him?”

“It doesn’t matter why.” he said through gritted teeth, “Just tell me where I can reach him, and why he isn’t answering his ring.”

“You... really don’t know?” the human asked, and Sinestro felt his already waning patience grow ever thinner. 

“Know what?” he asked, irritated at all these humans giving him the runaround, “If you are not going to tell me, I will simply-“

“Hal Jordan is dead.” the simple sentence rang out in the sudden silence of his room. Sinestro felt a curious buzzing in his head, his blood running cold as he stared at the yellow projection with unblinking eyes. 

“...What?” he asked quietly, making sure to keep his voice steady. The same couldn’t be said for his hands, which began to tremble.

“He’s dead.” The great Dark Knight sounded... regretful, “Jordan... Hal is... Hal is gone.” The words were insane, absolutely insane. Hal Jordan couldn’t be dead. He  _ couldn’t,  _ it was an universal impossibility. And yet, he knew the Batman was not one to conjure falsehoods, nor was he one to make jokes. He swallowed harshly, trying to steady himself. 

“...How?” he asked hoarsely, and the Batman gave him an almost pitying look. 

“Will knowing make it any easier?”

“Tell. Me. Now.” he growled, heart in his throat, and the Batman gave him a searching glance before sighing. 

“It was stupid.” he started, his voice heavy, “ _ Pointless.  _ He was helping my partner rescue some hostages of a villain called Scarecrow, who has a gas that causes people to hallucinate their greatest fears. One of the people Hal was rescuing had been hit with the gas, and she had picked up a big shard of glass at some point. When Hal picked her up to fly her to safety, she panicked and stabbed him in the throat and... kept stabbing. By the time Robin got to him it was too late to save him.” Sinestro heard a ringing in his ears, his fists clenched so tightly he was drawing blood from crescent shaped wounds on his palms. 

“And the woman?” he asked lowly, his voice barely recognizable through the feral growl, “Where is she?”

“Dead.” the Batman answered, “A few of Flash’s rogues took matters into their own hands when they saw how Hal’s death had affected him.”

“Then at least that pathetic man is good for something.” he snarled, feeling the shameful prick of tears in his eyes, “And your partner did nothing to save him? Why was he alone? Why-“

“Robin did everything he could.” the Batman growled, his partner apparently his weakness, “But if punishment matters to you, he’s already traumatized enough, seeing a friend and mentor brutalized like that. By the time I got to them...” His eyes briefly went distant, and the memory of the mutilated figure in the dream flashed across Sinestro’s face. He closed his eyes against it, exhaling sharply through his nose. 

“You have something else to share.” he said lowly, “I can tell. Speak.”

“It won’t make anything better.” the Batman replied, and Sinestro glared as best he could with his watery eyes. 

“Speak.” he demanded. The Batman stared impassively at him before sighing, clearly resigned. 

“His last words were for you.” he told him, “Although we can’t begin to guess what they were. He only said ‘tell Sinestro...’, and died before he could finish.”

“I… see.” Sinestro got the distinct sense that he already knew what Jordan had wanted to say, “I… Thank you for your time. I… I have to go.”

“Of course.” the Batman nodded, his tone almost fatherly, “The funeral is in two days. I don’t know how closely his family observes shiva, but I can provide you food to bring, and protection, should you decide to attend.”

“That will not be necessary.” he said, his voice raspy despite his best efforts, and the Batman tilted his head. 

“You won’t be attending?”

“I don’t know.” he said quietly, turning his head away with a curse to hide the traitorous brimming of his eyes, “I-I may.”

“Sinestro.” the Batman said, and his voice was far too gentle for Sinestro to take, “If you ever need to talk-“

“I won’t.” he shook his head and ended the call just as the tears began to fall, and try as he might he couldn’t seem to make them stop.

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to get back into the horror groove in honor of October! And what better way to do that then by brutally killing one of my favorite DC characters and tormenting his nemesis! This was absolutely inspired by Pet Sematary (2019) where I fell in love with Victor Pascow


End file.
